


Consequences

by Two_steps_west



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Gaston Tries, M/M, Magic, Redemption, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_steps_west/pseuds/Two_steps_west
Summary: When LeFou finally stands up to Gaston - he snaps.After walking away from the biggest mistake of his life, Gaston wishes that he'd never met LeFou, unaware that someone else is listening in.Only now will he realize just how much LeFou has affected his life until now and just how much he needs him.Understanding the meaning of 'Careful what you wish for' has never been so literal untill now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not the most original concept, I'll admit. But I've never seen any others in this fandom before now, so I gave it a go. Hope you enjoy!

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Gaston growled, voice equal parts incredulous and dangerously clipped, “Would you like to repeat that?” A challenge or a mercy – LeFou couldn’t tell.

“I said no, Gaston. We are not leaving Maurice to the wolves.”

The hit came before LeFou had even seen Gaston move. It stung and burned against his skin, his body bruised by the sudden impact of the floor. He looked up to see Gaston standing there, heaving and angry, like an _animal._ This wasn’t his friend. This was something much more dangerous.

LeFou wondered how long Gaston had been replaced by this _husk_ of himself. _How could he be so blind?_

“LeFou, get in the carriage.” Gaston’s nostrils were flared, a mad glint in his eye, usually meticulous hair ruffled and poised that he was fully ready to strike again. A madman. LeFou wondered if he should be more surprised that his once friend (Were they ever friends?) lashed out this way, but he found out deep down he had almost expected it. He realised with horror that he had harboured a growing fear for Gaston over these few weeks. That all the usual praise and encouragement ultimately had stopped being for Gaston – it was to reassure _himself_.

He was _terrified_ of his only friend.

LeFou looked around for something – some way to get to Maurice and manage to free him. But what then? Maurice was barely conscious. His eyelids were blown wide and his head was lolling loosely from side to side, as though his neck was free of bones. There was a knife in Gaston's pocket, but even if he did manage to reach it, he would never get to Maurice in time before Gaston would be on him. He wouldn’t be able to take Maurice home. He wouldn’t make it. There had to be something though. Some way to get out of this with Maurice and himself alive.

The only way is if he killed Gaston.

But no, he would never sink to the level Gaston had always apparently had the potential to reach. He wasn’t _like him_. LeFou used to resent that fact, but now he was wondering if it was so bad after all. There was another beat of silence before Gaston spoke again.

“Fine then, I’ll leave you to the wolves just like him!” Gaston hauled LeFou off the floor, and as he struggled Gaston smashed his head into a tree so that white spots danced in his eyelids and he instantly felt nauseous. A distant part of his mind _really_ wanted to throw up and ruin some of Gaston’s favourite clothes right about now. He distantly felt rope being tied too tightly around his plump frame, then the distant sound of footsteps and horse hooves signalling the carriage riding away.

He thought he heard Maurice distantly say a weak _“thank you”_ before everything went black.

 

\----

 

Agatha  had not expected this.

She knew that Gaston had fallen far, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but not only had she not expected his friend to stand up to him – as despite his pure heart his loyalty blinded him – but that Gaston was so far gone that he would turn on the only person who truly loved him. LeFou completed him, made him the man the village saw. Agatha thought it to be quite symbolic that LeFou was just another part of Gaston’s self that was left behind in the wreckage of Gaston’s self-destructive path. His only saving grace, his only redemption, was being left behind

There was a deep darkness travelling away from this area, potent enough that it had left an imprint in the clearing marking the divide between roads and worlds, if the time frame was right. This was the damp stench of madness. Though there was something else Agatha was sensing. Mingled with the shadows that had obscured his heart. Regret. Gaston may not be too far gone after all.

Opening up a gateway, Agatha looked through to see Gaston from where she was. He had stopped and was looking back down the path indecisively. Confliction warred at his heart, voiced in his words as he began to speak; “He deserves it, surely, for defying me. Me - the man who has allowed him to hang around for all this time, he should feel so lucky! He is nothing without me. He has shown his loyalty’s are elsewhere.” With a final look and an irritated scowl he turned the horses, leaving his friend behind.  But not before saying –

“I just wish I’d never met the fool.”

The vision ended. Well, if that was what Gaston wanted, that is what he’d get. Agatha got to work planning. She would temporarily remove the madness that had begun to take hold of Gaston's mind, however should he fail the task given to him, he will return to this time twisted even further than before and become his own doom.

 

\----

 

Halfway down the final pathway to the town Gaston’s vision turned black for a moment and his head felt clearer than it had in weeks.

The next thing he knew, he woke up in bed at home.

He sat up slowly and tried to figure out what had just happened. Had he blacked out somewhere? He remembered travelling somewhere but he couldn’t remember – Wait. Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. His obsession with Belle, her rejection, the way she went missing and Maurice. Oh God – he’d left Maurice hadn’t he?

He went a chill as the final memory came to him like ice water rushing through his veins. He had hurt LeFou. No, he hadn’t just hurt him, he’d _left_ him for _dead_.

He rushed out of bed, already fully dressed, and burst out of his front door as fast as he could. He sprinted to the stables, ignoring the indignant retorts of people he’d pushed out of the way and clambered onto his horse before beginning a full gallop into the forest. Quickly, he managed to reach the part in the forest that was overgrown with moss, leaves and trees. He was able to see the tree – But there was no one there.

Not even a hint of a rope was left among the wooden barrier that had entrapped the two people. There was not a scrap of clothing, a hint of a struggle. Just softly blowing grass and ominously overhanging trees. Was it possible they had been dragged away? That perhaps they had been completely eaten by the wolves? There was no blood in the area – dear God please let them have escaped.

“Hello?” A voice called Gaston out of his quickly spiralling thoughts, “Gaston, is it? Are you okay, you seem a little spaced out.”

Gaston turned to see Tom and Dick out on patrol. It was their early morning run – but wait, didn’t they normally take their shift on Tuesdays? Gaston could’ve sworn that Tuesday was three days ago. He couldn’t be that out of the timeframe – could he?

Then again, he had been very absent to a lot of things recently.

Realising that he should probably answer, Gaston took a deep breath and tried to assume his usual bravado, “Why of course I’m alright, when am I ever not?” Then something occurred to him and he let a frown take over his features, “Wait, did you just ask me my name?”

Tom seemed to shuffle awkwardly, “Well, I just wanted to check mate. I mean, it’s not like we’ve talked to each other a lot over the years, y’know?”

No, Gaston did absolutely _not know_. Tom, Dick and Stanley had been some of his highest supporters, his backup right hand men if you will, since he had arrived back at the village after the war with... Well, after the war. Something strange was definitely going on.

“Uh, come on Gaston, we should probably be getting you back, you don’t seem very well, your pretty pale,” Dick said slowly, “But hey, there’s a new father and his daughter that’s supposed to be arriving in town today, what were there names... Ah, never mind, but we really should greet them. We are a very tight-knit town after all.”

Gaston nodded hesitantly and they began an awkward trip back in silence as their words sank in. He hadn’t known about anyone new coming to town. The last people who had arrived were Belle and Maurice a few weeks before, who before that had been travelling from city to city trying to find a good place for Maurice to set up his business. Had Belle ever told him that? No, wait, LeFou was the one which told him. He wondered where LeFou had managed to get that information.

Wait, everyone knew everyone to some extent in this town, and Tom and Dick definitely knew LeFou – that was it!

“By any chance have either of you seen LeFou around lately?”Gaston asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. When he saw them both frown his heart dropped.

“LeFou...” Dick mused, “Quite an unusual name, don’t you think? Not sure I’ve ever heard of anyone by that name in the village. What about you Tom?” Tom shook his head with a confused expression on his face before passing Gaston a worried look.

“Is this LeFou a friend of yours? He’s not in trouble is he?”

Gaston wasn’t sure how to answer that. Did he have any right to call LeFou his friend? Probably not. Was he okay? God he hoped so. Was he massively confused by this whole situation – Definitely!

“You both... Don’t know LeFou?” He asked incredulously. By what he’d heard he had assumed that LeFou was quite amiable with Tom, Dick and especially Stanley. Had he been wrong? He knew that LeFou definitely spent more time with him than everyone else but surely he must have _some_ other friends?

Then again, apart from LeFou how many friends did Gaston really have?

“Should we?” Dick asked, pulling Gaston out of his musing. He was pretty sure he wanted to scream – to rip his hair out and yell and tell both of them to stop playing games with him, that he just needed to know if LeFou was okay. Perhaps he was in shock or a rare moment of better judgement kicked in because he remained silent and slowly shook his head. It was probably the former of the two. This was all strange though. Strange and so, so wrong.

They were acting like LeFou had  _never existed_.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they arrived back at the village and Gaston dismounted with shaky legs. He led his horse to the stable and stood there trying to gather his thoughts for a few seconds before deciding he should check LeFou’s house, then the tavern.

Walking by the main square to reach the other side of town (Why the place of LeFou’s house needed to be so inconvenient he’d never know) Gaston managed to bump into someone. On instinct, he reached out to grab them before the mystery person managed to hit the floor.

“Oh, I am so sorry monsieur! I suppose I was just so distracted by this book, I’ll try to be more aware next time.” Gaston looked down into Belles face, seeing no hint of the annoyance or malice that had adorned her features and eyes since after their first meeting. He found that she looked much better like this, but it still confused him. Why was she acting like this is their first meeting? Wasn’t she supposed to be missing? Though, she would definitely know if Maurice was okay, and is Maurice was okay (Which would be a relief in itself) then LeFou must be as well, right? That seemed somewhat logical.

“Belle, have you seen Maurice today? Is he okay?” Gaston said somewhat desperately. Belle just looked at him with large confused eyes. She seemed to instantly become somewhat wary.

“What do you know of my father? How do you know my name?”

Oh, Gaston did _not_ have time for these shenanigans right now, “Just tell me, please! I’m asking for a... Friend.”

“Very well then,” Belle said slowly, too slowly for Gaston's liking, which he just found annoying. In fact, on reflection, he found a lot about Belle annoying. He’d have to look into that more later. “He doesn’t leave the house a lot, but he left last night to hurry to town and get some food before the stalls closed. He arrived back soon after and was at home when I left this morning.”

But... That didn’t make any sense. It would’ve taken hours without help to even think of trying to get out of the bonds. “Did he mention anything else that happened that night?”

“I’m sorry monsieur, I’m not sure what your angle is here, or what you want with knowing my father’s actions, but we have just arrived in this small town and my father is not a man who would like to be disturbed.” With that she began walking away with a curt, “Have a nice day,” over her shoulder.

One thing struck Gaston. She had just moved here. _She had just moved here._ “Wait, Belle!” He shouted and she paused before turning and raising an eyebrow, “What is the date today?”

“It’s Tuesday, the eleventh of April, “she said before turning and walking away. Gaston's blood ran cold. It was well into June the last he’d checked. That couldn’t possibly be right.

He rushed to his house, only slightly more aware of the people surrounding him than before, until finally he reached where LeFou's house was supposed to be, nestles between two alleyways on the West side of the town square.

Where it was  _supposed to be._

As where LeFou's house once was, now only bare land and rubble remained, as though a house had crumpled down long ago and no one had bothered to clean any of the remains. Only the slight structure of the foundation had survived.

Gaston rushed to a villager, desperate to figure out what in the hell was going on. “Please, monsieur, what happened to that house over there?”

The villager looked confused but looked over anyway before his features cleared. “Oh, that small house? A shame really, it used to be a sweet little place to live, small but cosy. When it fell no one had the courage to build it back up again though. Superstition runs rampant in this town, as you must know. I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” he said with a deep chuckle.

“Why would there be superstition? I must know.” He demanded.

“My, hungry for knowledge, aren’t we?” He paused, as though recalling a distant memory, “well, you know how it is, people believe things linger in places such as this. It would be a bad omen to step over the barrier of the house. There is talk of curses, disease, spirits.”

“Why would there be talk of such things?”

“A family used to live there, a strange little family, didn’t really fit in with the rest of the townsfolk but they sure were sweet. One day though, they locked the doors, blocked any entrance, bolted the windows and didn't leave their house for nothing. Not for water nor food.”

“Is it possible they moved away? What other reason could they have to isolate themselves?”

“Plague, my boy.” The words turned Gaston to ice as the man continued, merciless –

“The plague took them all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston takes and then disregards some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this is my best... I may edit it slightly later on.  
> I'm pretty tired as I'm uploading this - it's 11:15pm where I am!

The next few hours found Gaston at the tavern trying to down his own body weight in alcoholic beverages. This tavern was not called _‘Gaston's Tavern’._ It was simply called _‘The Local’_ , which if you had Gaston's completely biased opinion on, was a completely awful name.

As it turned out, it had been LeFou's idea to name the tavern after the towns hero. Though, on reflection, quite a few things were very different now that LeFou was... Not around for the time being. In fact, the whole title of _Town Hero_ itself didn’t seem to have even an inch of the significance it once had. The tavern that had once sung his praises for the world to hear, a place which had women hanging off his arm, that had men who either wanted to befriend him or wanted to _be_ him.

It had LeFou.

But now that was all gone. People ignored him as laughter seemed to fill the space around him. Everyone joyous and oblivious to the turmoil that he was feeling. His special chair was gone. Gaston had never realized how lonely he could be in a room full of people, without his best friend at his side feeding him compliments and making jokes about the villagers. To occupy himself, Gaston had begin to create a list; _‘Things that are different without LeFou.’_

It was surprisingly quick for Gaston to gather these three things to add to this list.

 _One: The townspeople acted like the war had never happened without LeFou._ His friend had constantly told stories and wowed them with the accounts of Gaston's success and grandeur. Considering his friend was illiterate, Gaston realised that up till now he hadn’t nearly appreciated just how amazing LeFou's story-telling skills actually were. LeFou, as it turned out, had been the one who kept the war alive for Gaston, on and off the battlefield

 _Two: Without the war, to these townspeople I am nothing._ This point had hurt, true. But ultimately it lead to point three, which Gaston found his hand writing without any form of given consent. When he looked down absently at his list, it was this last point which had hit Gaston like a bullet.

_Three: Without LeFou, I am nothing._

For years Gaston had thought it was the other way round. He let LeFou praise him, be his friend, carry his gear. These were all things any member of the town would happily jump to do for him. But was that actually true? Because according to this strange new place, that wasn’t how it was at all.

 _Four: I took LeFou for granted._ Gaston looked down at his own writing, feeling a surprising amount of peace with that statement, until he read it over again _. No, that was wrong_. He was never completely in the wrong, he shouldn’t be doubting himself. LeFou _was_ lucky to have him. He’d said so himself on many an occasion. This list – it didn’t mean anything! His mind was just betraying him in this strange place. It was just a bunch of useless words, and Gaston most definitely did not care about such things as _reading._ This was just the alcohol talking! Gaston quickly crumpled the list in a large, strong hand, before aiming a perfect throw into the fire on the other end of the Tavern, signalling for another drink.

If LeFou were there he would’ve cheered and told him how great he was for such a feat.

“Hello monsieur, may I ask, is something wrong?”

Gaston looked up to see that the barman was looking at him with kind but worried eyes. He did look a bit of a mess, he supposed, but how was he meant to look his best without LeFou to righten his shirt or fix his hair or wipe the slight beer froth off his face whilst giving him a compliment? He hadn’t been alone since he was a young teen, lying about his age to join a war he couldn't comprehend. He wasn’t about to learn these things now.

Gaston suddenly realized the barman was waiting patiently. “Just a tad lost in thought.”

“Do you want to share? I often find that a listening ear can be the best way to abate any worry, and being a barman instantly makes you a very good listener.” The barman slid over his drink cheerfully.

“I... Seem to have misplaced someone.”

“Oh. Well perhaps I can find them. Who is this person? A friend, a lover?”

He didn’t have the right to call LeFou his friend – not out loud at least, and not right now. Perhaps after he apologized. If LeFou ever accepted his apology, that is. The man was too kind for his own good. But what if Gaston never got a chance to say sorry?

“Someone very dear to me,” he decided to go with, “But I don’t think he’s here.”

“Get stood up, did you? Don’t you worry mate, it happens more often than you’d think. Maybe if this person didn’t show, you could just find someone else to hang around with. There are many folk in here after all – why not try mingling a little? There has to be someone here, no?”  Gaston found that he couldn’t be bothered to correct the man.

“Well, I’m not sure. There’s this thing that happened to me. I think it might have something to do with him? I thought maybe if I could find him, it would be okay, but I don’t think he’s around anymore.” With a sombre nod, the man was pulled away by someone else calling for a drink. It was true though, Gaston had been thinking. _“A dangerous pastime”_ LeFou chimed in his head, and Gaston would have to agree. Whatever was going on here, Gaston was pretty sure LeFou must have something to do with it. Sure, the date had changed, but there was only one thing that was completely different – LeFou was gone.

There were parts of it which didn’t make sense though. Him and LeFou had been in the war together. Years of having each others backs. Years of having to look out for each other and defending each other gone just didn’t add up. LeFou dying at war would make more sense than this because LeFou had _saved his life_ out there.

If LeFou was gone, who had been there to protect him?

Gaston looked around the tavern and decided maybe this was all just a mistake. Maybe the whole thing didn’t matter. Make the best out of a bad situation, right? He didn’t have any control over getting here and he didn’t have any control how to get back as far as he knew. He couldn’t very well revive LeFou from the dead after all. He was beginning to feel buzzed from the alcohol and even though it was only just passed midday (Of the longest day of his life) he felt ready to be in control again.

Hell, maybe he’d take the barman’s advice and make a few friends. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with him after all? He scanned the place before setting his eyes on Tom and a Bimbette. Absolutely not, the ride here had been too awkward to even risk revisiting that area. Though, looking round he was surprised how little he knew of the people of this town. LeFou was the one who had always whispered the names of everyone into his ear... usually standing on an object to do so.

No - he was not about to think about LeFou right now! Maybe this could even be a good thing. Gaston definitely needed to broaden his horizons anyway. With that, Gaston staggered forward into the small huddles of people passing through on their work breaks.

\----

Five awkward conversations, a few half hearted attempts at small talk and one stinging slap from a women he’d mistaken for a man _(she had a beard for Gods sake!)_ later, and Gaston was feeling utterly defeated.

He draped over the bar in a bar stool again, coming down from his earlier buzz that kept him going and feeling _dreadfully sober._ A small prod on the shoulder had him look over and he saw Paulette, one of the Bimbettes, sitting next to him. It was a strange sight, seeing her without her eyelashes fluttering and figure poised. He also noted that she hadn’t overdone her makeup or stylized her hair. She looked much better in Gaston's opinion, he found himself wondering if all the Bimbettes were like this in this strange world.

“Hello monsieur,” Paulette said after seeing that she had Gaston's immediate attention. “I just saw you uhm... making conversation, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out very well.” The way she said ‘making conversation’ heavily implied that she thought he was doing something – but that wasn’t it. “But surely you have friends here, right? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that you seemed very alone.”

Gaston wasn’t sure how to reply. In his old world (as he had taken to naming it) he would’ve been friends with every person in the tavern. Or maybe that was all LeFou as well. But those friends? They didn’t matter. Because he had his most important friend at his side.

He realized now that he was an idiot for thinking he could just _replace_ someone like LeFou.

“Yes, I had a friend in this town once, but I’m afraid he’s not here anymore.”

“Oh, what a shame. Perhaps I remember him? Can you give me a name?”

“His names-“ Gaston stopped short. He couldn’t say _LeFou_ again, as it was obviously not remembered and was regarded as very strange. He’d never given it much thought before, but LeFou couldn’t possibly be his friends real name, could it? No woman would ever name her child such a name. When he had met LeFou on the battlefield he had already been given the (apparently upon reflection) nickname, and Gaston had carried on calling him that until they had come back to Villeneuve. Thing is, to him LeFou had always just been... LeFou. That had been that. Gaston had never given much thought to the meaning behind the name until now, and it just didn’t seem _right._ It couldn’t be possible that he didn’t know his best friends own name after all those years - it just couldn’t! But it was.

How could he possibly be so self-absorbed that he didn’t know his best friends own _name?_

“Wow, this friend sure must’ve left a long time ago. Have you been alone ever since?” Paulette drew him out of his thought again and he realised he never answered.

“No, we just used to call him by a nickname and we all just...  Ended up forgetting his real name I suppose.” _‘You never asked, you mean?’_ His mind supplied, but he quickly shut down the traitorous thoughts and thought back _‘Well, he never exactly offered the information, now did he?’_

Though, now he thought about it, whilst LeFou was a good conversationalist (better than he had just proved himself to be), he only ever talked about other people. In fact, upon reflection Gaston realised that his friend was in fact an extremely private person. How much did he really know about LeFou?

_He likes pink bows._

_He likes cooking._

_He likes...Singing?_

_He likes... Me?_

Gaston’s mind mentally supplied the rather small list and he cringed. This was slightly pathetic.

“Well, perhaps you can get to know the people who have just moved in. They seem nice.” Paulette supplied. Gaston felt slightly guilty that he kept forgetting she was there, but soon brightened.

“Wait, that’s it!” Gaston exclaimed suddenly, causing Paulette to jump. Belle reads loads – she must have read _something_ in one of her books that can help him out of this.

He quickly got up and raced to the door, hearing a faint _‘Goodbye then?’_ and muttering under his breath, “My God, the other gender are finally proving useful for something other than sex!” To which he heard a gasp and a clipped, _‘Well, I never!’_ From an older woman, which he was too overjoyed to worry too much about.

He raced back out into the market square ready to go to Belles house, his feet working on automatic when he froze at a familiar sound.

 _No. It wasn’t possible. It just_ wasn’t _possible!_

Slowly, he turned around.

It was then he saw it. The strange but familiar laugh he knew so well coming from a man he _knew so well_. He felt a wave of relief overtake him as there stood the one man he least believed could be standing there.

LeFou was leaning across one of the stalls and chatting with Stanley happily.

He was _here._ LeFou was _alive_ and it didn’t matter how because it just was. He could ask questions later like ‘ _what on Earth is actually going on?’_ or ‘ _why is the damn universe messing with me?’,_ but right then none of that mattered because LeFou was standing not ten yards away from him. He could hear his voice, see his smile. Hell, if he wanted to he could _touch_ him.

He quickly rushed over and grabbed his friends arm, dragging him away from his conversation with an undignified yelp. Pulling him into a tight hug, he swung his almost-lost friend around before he was being pushed off by frantic hands. He staggered back a few steps to see shocked eyes meet his but didn’t let it dampen his mood. _Nothing_ could dampen his mood now. Because those eyes that he thought he might never see again were staring _straight at him_ and he felt like he was _flying._

“LeFou, oh it’s so good to see you again old friend. I thought I had lost you! I just want you to know; I am so very sorry. I’m really am, I honestly don't know what's happened to me recently, but you have to let me explain – you will not _believe_ what’s happened to me these past few hours!” He waited for an answer. For shouting. For confusion or dismissal. For anything.

Then continued to wait.

For a few more seconds.

That seemed to stretch into minutes.

Then, finally, in a voice much more hostile than the LeFou he was used to he heard;

_“What the hell did you just call me?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston is an idiot, but he still manages to charm the socks off a sassy enchantress well enough to get a sweet deal and some good advice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know. It's been a long time. It might be a long time till the next update. Believe it or not I actually had pretty much the whole chapter ready like a week after last posting?? Maybe a little more. I'm usually in the habit of always being one chapter ahead of publication, and I just... Never got around to writing the other chapter.
> 
> It is in the works now though! I mean, I'm pretty sure no one will read this anymore haha, but hey, it's here for all you fans who stayed! Kudos to you guys!

_“What the hell did you just call me?”_

There was a moment of silence as Gaston slowly started to absorb the fact that yes – he had found LeFou, but perhaps this was not the LeFou he had known. However, one was better than nothing at all. To live without him for even this day was difficult; to go forever without any LeFou was... He had to try.

Try to what exactly? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he had to _try_.

“Well... I – um.” Oh gods, what was he even meant to say? This was not in any form what he imagined a reunion would be.

“You’re a tad slow, aren’t you buddy?” LeFou said with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, giving off a far more confident and impressive manor than Gaston remembered him having. “Look, I don’t know what you meant by that... frankly offensive name-calling, but I must ask you, please don’t talk to me again if you will continue to address me that way. I will not tolerate it Monsieur...”

“Gaston,” he replied in a shocked daze, legs locked into place and his eyes having widened. This LeFou was a lot more... forward than his one.

“Right then Gaston - Wait, didn’t you take a part in the war? I could swear there was a Captain from this town that went by that name...” Trailing off, LeFou's eyebrows seemed to furrow in concentration. Alternatively, Gaston felt a ray of hope shoot trough him. Maybe he wouldn’t make as much of an idiot of himself as he already had! Even if this worlds version of him seemed to be a hermit or something from how little people knew about him. He grabbed onto the topic of conversation he excelled at and latched on with renewed fervour.

“Ah yes! Perhaps you would like to hear a tale of one of my many grand endeavours? They are very splendid if I do say so myself! You may just be impressed.” Gaston gave a flick of his head which he knew sent his hair off in a very attractive way and an over-exaggerated wink at a slightly stunned LeFou.

Very quickly LeFou's face morphed from this shocked countenance to distinctly unimpressed.

“Look I don’t know who you think you are but the war was years ago. Sure it can be used as a pretty great pick up line in some bars, but no one wants to hear of war. We are a small, provincial little town, people do not have mind of such things, nor want to acknowledge heartache. You would do well to remember that.” LeFou then turned and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Gaston yelled in shock, “But... I was a hero.”

LeFou sighed and turned to look at him resigned; a haunted look in his eyes. “There are no heroes in a war Gaston.”

He walked away.

There was a moment where Gaston just stood there in shock... then the moment stretched into two, then a full minute, and then –

“Stop!”

But LeFou was already gone.

\----

After searching through the bustling square for a few minutes before eventually giving up, Gaston had made it to his house. Or... what ought to be his home. Apparently in this strange world his house was already lived in by _Stanley_ of all people.

_Fucking Stanley._

Gaston would never understand why LeFou had ever liked Stanley so much. Seemed like a real pansy to him. He swore he his lips always looked much pinker than any mans had any right to look and it pisses him off.

Not that Gaston ever made any effort to look at other men’s lips. Of course not. It was just... passing observation. That’s all. Nothing to look into there.

Gaston was sure that this worlds him _must_ have a house somewhere, but Gaston wasn’t about to risk a guess. So he resigned himself to having been left alone. Eventually he had broken into one of the unoccupied houses near the village square to escape the chill, which he very quickly realised was definitely not his grandest idea. There was no bed, the ground was stiff and entirely too cold to sleep on and he swore he could hear rats scurrying around which meant there was a distinct chance that the slight dirt streaks on the already grimy and dusty ground was not dirt. He leaned his hand onto the ground as he lowered himself onto the floor, looking at the now muddied hand in disgust. It wasn’t even warm either. Cold shit, disgusting.

After a rather long wait for someone with an attention span as short as Gaston's (Read: two and a half seconds) he groaned and got up. Was there anyone he knows in this damn world who he could stay with?

LeFou was the first person which came to mind but considering the first impression... it wasn’t the most likely choice. Not only had he made a bad ‘first impression’ but LeFou apparently lived elsewhere in the town. Gaston _really_ didn’t want to have to knock on random strangers doors in search of LeFou. He didn’t want to have to go suck up to Tom, Dick or ugh... _Stanley._ He hated the idea of being indebted to anyone in this world either. Perhaps Belle? Whilst he hadn’t made the best first impression, as long as he can convince her that he is not a crazy person, she might let him in. As airheaded and strange as Belle could be, she seemed kind. Well... to people who aren’t trying to win her hand anyway. He was sure he had seen her and LeFou have a seemingly pleasant conversation once or twice when they thought he wasn’t around. She definitely didn’t _hate_ him in this universe yet anyway.

So... don’t make a marriage proposal and Belle will like you. Seemed simple enough.

After a walk to the other side of town (not that far considering how small it was) he finally arrived at the door to the house before he was met with a realisation. Just as his hand readied to give an arrogantly loud knock on the door he paused.

It was late.

Generally when it was late people are asleep.

Usually Gaston would not care about such things. After all, when Gaston knocks at your door people will be happy any time of night and day but... This isn’t his world anymore. He needs to win Belle’s favour. So that left him with a few options. First was to sneak inside; however generally finding a full grown man (even one as handsome as he) sleeping on your floor in the early hours of the morning was not the best start to the day. The second was to knock and wake someone up. Probably better than the first option but again – not great. Might not win him any favours in the whole “Hey stranger - I’d like to stay” department. Maybe if he... didn’t exactly wake them up himself it would be okay?

As Gaston was pondering just how realistically he could imitate the noise of a cockerel the door opened and a rather shocked looking Maurice was suddenly face to face with him. Gaston was still looking into that face. The last he’d seen that face he was leaving him for the wolves. The last he’d seen that face Maurice was going to _die._ He was going to die and it would have been _his_ fault.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence (or was it a second... or an hour?) Maurice coughed to get his attention.

“Oh, hello there. May I ask why you are currently on my front porch? Not that I’m complaining you see – it’s always lovely to get visitors! But well... It is rather late isn’t it?”

Gaston was finally shaken out of his stupor. “Ah yes!” Maurice flinched at his loud tone but Gaston seemed to take no notice of this – oblivious as he was. “I... Well you see it’s rather complicated but-”

“Are you by chance a friend of Belles? I’m afraid unless that girl is reading to the early hours again she has already retired to bed. I’m only awake because of my disastrous sleep schedule... sometimes fresh air helps but you see.” He looked to be in thought for a second before he questioned tentatively and hesitantly, “Is this something I should be expecting? Some sort of Villeneuve quirk I wasn’t informed about where people will show up on the doorstep late at night?”

“No! No, this isn’t a town thing, goodness no! I just... I was wondering if you by chance have a place to sleep?”

Maurice looked rather shocked by this as he looked him over. This man in front of him wore bright colours, dyed colours! That wasn’t the mark of a man in bad luck. Then again, there were some dust bunnies clinging to his trousers and his shirt had some slightly suspicious brown stains littered across it. But well... he was new in this town; he wanted to make a good first impression to the town’s people. He also didn’t make it his business to judge people. However he wasn’t about to let some random stranger into his house at the dead of night – especially when his daughter was home.

“Perhaps... you might want some blankets? I’m afraid I cannot let you in however if you need something to keep you warm I’m sure I must have _something_ lying around that could help?” Maurice conceded.

Well it wasn’t exactly what Gaston was hoping for but it was certainly a start.  After a few strained and unpractised ‘Thank you’s and a weary ‘Oh the pleasures mine’ Gaston was on his way with a very perplexed Maurice’s eyes following in his wake.

It was strange, being denied something. As it was before people would fight over which house he may stay in for the night. Give up their best bed and sleep on the floor if he were to stay. But he had already realised that this place was not like where he came from. It was different. Things were wrong and they didn’t feel right. But he was tired and if this was what he was going to get tonight then he would take what he could.

The run down houses with unlit fireplaces weren’t any warmer than the round of the alleyways between them. At least there you can see the stars.

So Gaston lay down. At least the stars were just as pretty in this strange otherworld.

“When did you begin to refer to this as the otherworld?”

Gaston bolted up, shocked, at the sudden voice. He spun to see Agathe standing strongly, rather than in her usual meek manner. It made her seem as if she was the one in control here, like she had the power. Which was ridiculous. Obviously.

“Oh it’s nothing that you would understand I assure you,” Gaston scoffed, coming out of his daze. “Please just leave, I’m trying to get some rest.”

Gaston bundled up his blankets, intent on either rearranging them or walking away to find a new spot if he needed to, when what Agathe said next gave him pause.

“You do realise that this _is_ your world now don’t you?”

Gaston turned his head to the side and watched her with steely eyes under a frown. “What do you mean by that?” The words were biting and fierce.

“I simply mean you got what you wished for. This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Gaston stood there numbly, not feeling the cold anymore as waves of shock rolled over him. “After all...

**“You wish you never met the fool.”**

She spoke with a different voice than her own. _His voice._ It sounded wrong and venomous and toxic and it was _his voice_. Which only meant one thing...

“Enchantress! You’re an... Enchantress.” He started strong but dithered. “Then reverse it. Reverse this damned curse now!”

“Oh Gaston,” the enchantress said with a sigh, “Don’t you see? This is a gift!” A smirk crawled over her features, playful and deadly. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? After all it’s very rude to ask for a gift and then to return it. I put a lot of work into this for you.”

“You damned bitch!” Gaston yelled, his temper snapping, “I want to go back! To the way things were before, when people loved me, when everyone knew my name and people were kind and I followed after Belle... To when LeFou was still there, by my side. When we still went hunting and did everything together and sang songs and danced.”

Agathe looked upon Gaston and felt pity bubble up inside her. Right now despite his false bravado he seemed so small, so alone. She sighed. She never made a spell without an exit clause. It was one of her rules.

“You seem to misunderstand me Gaston. _This_ is your world now, and this is how it always has been. You have an imprint in this world, a mark that cannot be removed.”

“If this is the world then where the Hell is the old one? The one which is _my_ home!”

“That world is gone Gaston. You could say destroyed but more accurately... Never existed. It’s only a figment of your imagination here, nothing more. This is how the world is and has always been. This is your world, just a different version, a few tweaks here and there. Just how you wanted it.”

Gaston hung his head in defeat, “Then... It’s gone. That’s it? Forever.” The silence prompted him to continue. “This wasn’t what I wanted you know? Never this. I just thought... I thought... I didn’t think I suppose.” A humourless chuckle escaped him, breathless and desperate. “I’m not happy here. I miss the other place, or the place before or whatever you want to call it.” Another pause as Agathe waited patiently, “I miss it.”

“Then get it back.” Agathe’s strong voice shocked Gaston as he jumped, as if he had forgotten she was even there.

“How on Earth am I meant to do that?” He wavered incredulously, Agathe seemed two more words away from her eyeballs rolling into the back of her head, giving a (in Gaston's opinion) very unneeded dramatic sigh and waving her hand lazily.

“The exit clause Gaston! There is always an exit clause, god! You are in need of a goddamn manual I swear! Step by step instructions! Do you know nothing?”

Gaston's eye twitched severely, he shook slightly with annoyance bubbling underneath his skin like a relentless colony of boiling ants. The choice words he wanted to spit at her were _crawling_ up his throat, however he grit his teeth and choked out, “Well, what is it? I’m sure I can handle anything!”

“It’s rather simple – befriend LeFou, as a real friend would. Treat him as an equal and not as an invalid. When you develop a deep friendship once more, untarnished by your selfish actions, you may return to your world. You can either ignore this challenge and carry on living here for the rest of your days, or you can accept and have a chance. However, if you do accept you must be aware a time limit will start. If you haven’t completed your task by the time the first rose blooms fully, you will cease to exist.”

Gaston and Agathe stared at each other for a few seconds, contemplating. Finally Gaston put his hand forth and nodded to her.

They shook hands and the timer started.

Just before Agathe fainted Gaston remembered some of the old village tales of enchantresses and couldn’t help but call out, “What the fuck is it with enchantresses and bloody roses?”

A whispering laughter carried on the breeze and Gaston was again alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out for more LeFou, Belle and my queen Stanley action in the next chapter!
> 
> Please tell me of any errors! I'm posting this real quick as I have homework to get done, so my checking and reading through isn't as great as it might be. I may edit this a little later. 
> 
> So great to be communicating with you all again! :)


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